Making Sense
by Avezrix125689
Summary: A part of a much larger piece, it shows a confrontation between the protagonist and antagonist's ideologys, focused mainly around the villain. Based on response, I'm might make a larger piece out of it. Either way, enjoy! Clans: Gangrel for protagonist, an original clan for the villain.


Dominerus' State of Mind

"You're not mistaken. I'm one of you, a Kindred, a child of Caine. And this is my greatest flaw." He rose to his full height, a full 8 feet tall. "I have lived for over 3,000 years, each year dragging me down, each year decaying my body more and more. And I see. I've seen what we're capable of. What the Kindred do to survive." Turning to Mark, his red eyes bored a hole through Mark, shining with a passion that Kindred of his years shouldn't have possessed. "We rape. We scheme. We _massacre millions. _You've known this, Mark. You've only been embraced for 60 years, and you realize the sick nature of the Kindred. Imagine being a Kindred for so many more years, watching as the Kindred become more, and more, and more monstrous. You would realize why I do what I do. You would know the sick things the Camarilla have done to uphold our Masquerade, to keep our world away from those xenophobic mortals." His eyes burned with a fire Mark had never seen before, a kind of will Mark didn't think could exist. "And the most painful thing, the thing I struggled with for millennium, was why the Kindred even exist!" His voice had begun rising, brimming with emotion. "We live a cursed existence, and we curse those around us by merely existing. In the end, us Kindred are unnatural, with no needed place on the Earth, no role to fulfill. We're only going to hurt more, destroy ourselves more, until this planet simply isn't enough." Dominerus motioned to the sky. "Space travel became possible 40 years ago. One day, we may colonize Mars, Jupiter, Neptune, the entire solar system. And we won't stop there. We'll expand across the universe, spreading this sick curse to everything that is and will be. You may think it impossible, but people from the 19th century could hardly believe that those moving pictures, those movies, could have _sound._ One day, our disease, our pain, will engulf everything. Everything will crumble. Yet, you ask me why I kill. Truth be told, I don't need to tell you. You already know Mark. You've always known.

Dominerus crouched into a feral stance, his muscles taut and his back hunched, ready to pounce. "The worst thing is, most of us don't have a choice. We are embraced against our will, and become a part of the sickness. I'll never take pride in what I'm doing. Everyday, the Kindred I kill might be innocent, kind, even caring. Perhaps they are mothers, brothers, friends, in love. A murderer with a cause is said to be a hero or justified, but they're still a murderer. I'm just another side effect of our eternal damnation. After 3,000 years of living to fight the sickness, I'm just another Kindred making a move. Except this time...-"

A massive blade materialized in his hands, something disturbing, something that shouldn't even exist. It resembled a butcher's knife, the blade almost as large as Mark's torso, with a handle as long as Mark's forearm. Dominerus casually held it with one hand, swinging it like a stick. It gave off an aura of unimaginable fear, a terror so striking that Mark froze in place, petrified.

"- no one is going to survive."

Mark couldn't move. He couldn't take his eyes off the blade, fear literally paralyzing him. His spine, rigid as stone, felt tense, the waves of fear rolling off the blade crushing him, bringing tears to his eyes.

It was only when Dominerus charged did Mark's instincts kick in. The cleaver dragging along the ground, Mark rolled back as the blade sliced through the air, the whine of the blade screaming at him, tearing apart his mind. Using the momentum of his last move, Dominerus spun and brought the blade down in a vertical slash. Still recovering from the onslaught of terror, Mark only barely dodged, the blade splintering the stone tiles like wood.

"Faster than you look, aren't you?" Dominerus said, following up with another downward slash. Mark, too focused on the blade, couldn't make any words. Tears had started gathering up, blurring his vision.

_It's too much. I'm can't keep up. _He had started breathing again, erratically and uneven, trying fruitlessly to get a move in on Dominerus. Each punch, each slash of his claws, either tore Dom's clothes or didn't reach him at all. Dominerus had thousands of years of experience, thousands of years of fighting some of the greatest Kindred to ever exist. And Mark was just a drifter.

Mark's first full mistake came when they had kept up the mad dance for what seemed like hours, Mark's bones feeling like they would snap from the strain. He tripped over his own feet like a rookie, before Dominerus brought the flat side of the blade crashing into Mark's torso, sending him flying 20 feet into the wall. He heard a sickening _crack _before falling to the ground, his lungs failing him. He couldn't feel his left arm, and his head felt like it was being severed from his spine.

Mark was laughing uncontrollably, hysterically. After all the shit that had happened, he was finished. Done. What a fucking joke.

Absolutely fucking hilarious.

He could hear the scrape of the blade approaching him, before Dominerus towered over Mark, his presence paramount, his every pore sending waves of mind numbing terror. It took everything Mark had, every last piece of strength, to rise to his knees, looking up at Dominerus. And he saw something he hadn't expected.

Dominerus had _contempt _in his white eyes. He got down on his knee as well, staring at Mark. Mark noticed, with a sense of sad satisfaction, that Dom's skin was glistening. He hadn't hurt him, but he had dogged him down.

"I'm sorry. Everything that has happened since the dawn of time is sickening. It hurts someone. And it always will. I'm just trying to make sure it never happens again." Dom shoved the blade into the floor in front of Mark before standing up again. "Remember, I don't hate any of them. I used to, but not anymore. I've seen the world from their eyes enough times. Everything we've done has been to survive. But it isn't worth it anymore. And for that, I'm sorry."

Through the agonizing haze, Mark watched at Dominerus walked back to the altar. When he reached it, he stood there, not moving.

Crushed, crestfallen, and weary, Mark couldn't help but think on Dom's words. He wasn't wrong. He was right. The Kindred are a sick race, manipulating the world just to keep themselves alive. He had thought about this for the past 60 years, and his belief in that fact had never been stronger.

But it didn't justify genocide_._

As he thought more and more, he felt something rising in his chest. A kind of fire. A kind of anger_. _Rage.

_Frenzy._

New found strength rushed through him, adrenaline mending his bones. He could feel his limbs growing in proportion, hair growing along his arms and body. His claws hardened, until moonlight reflected off their sheen.

Through the red haze, Mark could see Dominerus turning back to him, saying something, but Mark wasn't listening. He couldn't hear anything, the red haze paramount, the rage denying any attempt to be ignored.

The frenzy rose with a spasm through his chest, up his throat, until Mark let out an animalistic roar that cracked the world around him. Blood flew from his mouth, his vocal chords rended. And he couldn't care less.

Mark rose to his feet, recognizably altered, before he saw Dominerus' mouth moving again.

_Stopfuckingtalkingstopfuckingtalking__stopfuckingtalkingstopfuckingtalking__stopfuckingtalkingstopfuckingtalking..._

_"__**STOP FUCKING TALKING!"**_

Without a second thought, Mark tore the blade out of the ground, the massive weapon weighing nothing due to Mark's primal might. With a final shriek, Mark launched himself at Dominerus, the distance closed between them in the period of a second.

Dominerus, for the first time, looked surprised. He dodged, but only barely, the blade clipping his pants leg. Mark followed up without hesitation, creating an insane flurry of swipes, strokes, and slashes, attacking with blade and claw alike.

"_Prove to me that you're different. Prove to me that these people aren't so sick. Show me what makes you different. Show me! Fight it!" _Words poured out of Dominerus' mouth, but it was just noise to Mark. Just white noise, joining the chorus of screaming slashes, grunts, the undeniable red haze. Just _noise. Just more damn noise._


End file.
